


Black Blade's Bite

by taichara



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:08:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10020140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: Laslow, and being torn adrift once again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt:_ "I have nothing, and yet I still have more to lose"

_I can't believe it. I just cannot believe it ..._

... And yet there was no denying the day's events. The battle's events. The ... the unpleasant revelation that accompanied those events.

It all chased around his head like a mad, frightened animal.

Scratching at the spatter of blood still dried to his cheek, Laslow slunk out of the bright light of the castle's Grand Hall and slipped into one of the servants' hallways. He _wanted_ to celebrate, oh yes he did; there was nothing grander than a victory party, and there'd be ever so many others eager to celebrate with him -- and the liquor would help keep the wretched shyness in its grave -- but no. He couldn't. Not quite yet.

Not while that sight was still burned into his eyes.

_Milord ..._

_Why ...?_

Coming to a halt at the foot of yet another narrow-winding staircase, Laslow leaned against the wall; the cool stone was soothing to muscles still battered and bruised -- and to the sword-wound he'd bound himself. A tiny, rueful smile flitted across his face. Surely most any of Askr's bevy of healing Heroes would have sharp, sharp words for him once they knew he'd kited off unattended-to --

_But, no; no. Let me feel these aches a little longer, until I can't forget._

Until he couldn't forget that it was his own liege lord who dealt that blow that sliced through padded gambeson and maille both. Really, he should have been dead; struck down by Siegfried's edge and it was only a glancing injury? Impossible. 

Impossible, unless Xander had pulled the blow.

Or if something _else_ hindered Nohr's crown prince ...

_As if the witch didn't do something to him. Obviously._

_What am I to do now?_

Laslow closed his eyes, covered them with a hand that shook like he had the palsy.

_Milord. Why._

_Why did you choose ... that? To stay by the side of that wretched creature ... she bound you! Took your freedom from you! Marched you across the battlefield like a chess piece!_

Wretched magic, those so-called contracts. Laslow shuddered. To be able to cross from world to world, enslaving any soul who appealed to you ... Horrifying. Soul-witheringly horrifying. And no respite for the bound save having their blood spilled across the fields. 

Laslow watched his liege's blood sprayed across the pitiless earth ... and Xander drew himself up, spitting scarlet froth, and denied them all to stand willingly by his once-slaver's side.

_What can possibly be possessing you to actually feel loyalty to that wretch? What has she done to you?_

... And Sharena and Alphonse would have questions for him, if their fiery Captain did not corner him first. He had no doubt about that fact; how many times since he'd come to their world had he chatted, waxed rhapsodic even, about Lord Xander? About how he'd sworn to stand and protect his liege lord, no matter the cost?

_They must think me mad. Mad, or a traitor in the making, or both, and I'd not blame them if they did._

_I've hoped so much I'd see you, Milord, but not like this!_

The wall felt warmer, now; whether it was from his flesh adjusting to the cool or the stones drawing warmth from him, he didn't know. Maybe he'd developed wound-fever, and wouldn't that neatly cut the knot of his problems if he stayed down in the cellars with it?

Going back 'home', after all, was not an option. Nohr was not 'home', and with Xander bewitched or mad or both it could never _be_ home. 

_Bewitched, mad, and missing from his kingdom._

A shudder of fear rippled through Laslow. No, going back to Nohr was _not_ an option. Not now, maybe not ever, and him with no way he could think of to even tell Odin and Selena about what happened. He could hope they were summoned to Askr, but ...

_I can't go back to Milord's home world. I'll be executed in a trice._

_I have no 'where I came from' to go back to, either. That's why we all decided to go to Nohr in the first place!_

_My Ylisse -- Naga be thanked -- no longer exists. I could go back to the one we saved, but how fair would that be to the me that still has his life to be lived?_

No home, no past, no future.

The man he'd pledged himself to, lost to a black loyalty that defied sense.

He felt as if Seigfried hovered above him, waiting to fall one final time. 

And, with salt wetness dampening shaking fingers, he neither saw nor heard the figures padding down the stone-cut steps towards him.


End file.
